


Ice King

by Kei (strawberryjambouree)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurities, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Making Out, very slight Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8278562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjambouree/pseuds/Kei
Summary: Viktor is like winter, Yuuri thinks. Subzero and immovable, sharp and commanding. Untouchable.Until he isn't.Yuuri is unreachable, Viktor thinks. A work of art he shouldn't ever dirty with his touch. He should get over him, move on. Yuuri is unattainable.Until he isn't.





	

Snow seems to follow Viktor more adamantly than Yuuri ever has. It's his shadow, trailing behind him like a billowy white cape; it softly frames his angular face, reflecting off of his mercury-colored hair and making his entire countenance glow. The sound of crunching snow accompanies his voice, frost clinging to his Russian accent and melting into steam when he laughs. Viktor is winter, he's a frigid Sunday night in the middle of December, propelled over the ice with the shrieking winds of an unstoppable snowstorm, and the longer Yuuri is around him, the more he wants to get swept up into it.

Viktor wants the same.

He's been Yuuri's coach for a little over three months now. The snow has just melted, but Yuuri still looks at him with all the admiration and awe as if he were looking at a king sitting on a throne of ice, commanding winter with nothing but his sharp gaze. He wishes Yuuri would look at him as more of an equal now, especially since Yuuri has all the potential to completely surpass him. Yuuri has all the power and skill to leave him behind, skating in an empty stadium, the strains of centuries-old opera still ringing in his ears.

But Yuuri would never do that. Yuuri couldn't ever do something like that to his idol, to the immovable heart of his entire career. Yuuri couldn't do it to _anyone_ , really.

"Viktor?"

He snaps out of his dazed musings and realizes he's been staring at the second button of Yuuri's sweater for way too long. It's mismatched. There's an extra button hole at his collar.

"Sorry," he smiles easily. "Lost in thought."

"What were you thinking about?" Yuuri asks, just before shoving more rice into his mouth. Some crumbs from the katsudon cling to his bottom lip.

Viktor's eyes choose to stare at that instead. "Ah..." He fumbles with his chopsticks, still not used to the grip. "Nothing." There's a fork next to his plate, but he refuses to use it. It would be like admitting he lost.

That chatter from the other patrons of the inn surrounds them delicately for the few seconds of silence as Yuuri swallows. His tongue darts out to lick off the crumbs on his lip. Viktor blushes and forces his gaze back down to his own food. It's untouched.

Yuuri's brow furrows. "Is the food okay? Do you want something else?"

Viktor starts, nearly dropping his chopsticks. "No! No, no, it's-" he can't say it's delicious, he hasn't eaten any of it- "I'm sure it's just fine, I just-" _can't stop thinking about you?_ Ridiculous, how could he say something like that- "I... I'm not hungry."

Yuuri eyes him suspiciously. Viktor pushes the rice around with his poorly held chopsticks, and it's true, he's not hungry, he's anxious and a little more disgusted with himself than usual for falling for someone who's supposed to be his student.

He needs to get out of Yuuri's sight for a while.

"I'll eat later," Viktor mumbles, uncrossing his long legs and pushing himself up from their table. "I'm going to go lay down."

Yuuri looks like he wants to say something, get up and follow him, maybe even yell at him and demand a real answer to his unvoiced question, " _Are you alright?_ " And as Viktor practically sprints out of the dining room and down the winding corridors to his room, he thinks Yuuri decided to let him go.

Of course he didn't.

Viktor's halfway down the hall, his door in sight, when the sharp patter of running feet comes into focus— and there's Yuuri, skidding around the corner and barreling straight towards him.

Viktor hastily dashes into his room and slams the door shut in a panic. Anyone in his position would do the same, he tries to convince himself. Yuuri looked downright thunderous, anger in his clenched fists and worry written clearly across his face, glasses askew.

Yuuri pounds on the door. "Viktor! Open up!"

"You're too loud!" Viktor squeaks. How _pathetic_. He's supposed to be cool and collected, an ice king, not a panicky mess who can't do anything about his feelings except run away from them, _literally_.

"I won't stop until you let me in!" Yuuri's voice wavers. He's not as confident as he'd like to be, and Viktor guesses he's probably mortified of creating such a scene, but he won't give up. Not on Viktor.

Never on Viktor.

So he shakily cracks the door open and peeks out at Yuuri with his fists raised and cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open. "Hello," he says lamely.

Yuuri blinks, then drops his fists. A relieved half-smile twitches on his lips. "Hey. Let me in."

"That's not necessary, I- _oof_ -" He forgets sometimes that Yuuri is a lot more forceful than he looks. Unprepared for the shove, Viktor is easily pushed aside as Yuuri determinedly makes his way into the room, gently closing the door behind him.

He crosses his arms over his misaligned sweater. "Why aren't you eating?"

"I told you I'm not hungry." Viktor wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, avoiding eye contact.

"But we just came back from practicing for what, four hours? With no snacks?" He's walking closer. Too close. Viktor's back hits the wall as he tries to maintain the distance. "Are you getting sick?"

"Lovesick."

Yuuri blinks.

Horrified, Viktor claps a hand over his mouth. Now he definitely doesn't have an appetite, not with his stomach crawling up his throat. "I- I mean-"

Yuuri's expression is completely blank as Viktor splutters uselessly. It's disconcerting.

Viktor slumps to the floor, burying his face in his knees. "Please forget I said that," he says, muffled. "Please, please, _please_ forget I said that."

There's a rustling of clothing as Yuuri sits down in front of him. "Are you in love?" He sounds so confused. "What does that have to do with not eating?"

"It's hard to pay attention when-" Viktor swallows his words. "That's none of your business."

"It's my business," Yuuri insists. "You're my teacher and I'm your student and if this is going to affect you so badly, then I need to know."

Viktor groans. If only Yuuri knew how quickly this would destroy their dynamic. "It's not going to affect us," he lies. "Today is just bad. I miss him- _her_. I miss her."

The room goes silent for a few excruciating heartbeats. "You said 'him.'" Yuuri's voice is much closer than before. "You know I don't mind if it's a guy, right? Don't lie to me."

"That's not it." Viktor's hands clench his sleeves with white knuckles. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"What is it, then?" And Yuuri is so gentle, too gentle, pulling Viktor's hands away from his arms and lifting his face from his knees.

Viktor's breath spills from his lungs. "It's you," he whispers. His facade is cracking, the icy exterior splintering and splitting, and he can't pretend he doesn't feel such passionate emotions both inside and outside of the rink, can't pretend that when he's performing to songs about love and sex that he's thinking of a nice Russian girl back home, can't pretend that he's not thinking about Yuuri instead. He's always thinking about Yuuri instead.

"Oh." Yuuri's hands still rest on his reddening cheeks. " _Oh_."

"I... understand if you don't feel the same, it's quite stupid to like my own student of all people, and you may not be- I mean, I am a man, after all, I don't suppose you-"

"I do," Yuuri interrupts. His fingers tremble in Viktor's peripheral vision.

"What?"

"I do. I like you. I never thought- I always thought I would be the one to say it. I never allowed myself to hope you'd like me back. It's not stupid." His hands slide into Viktor's hair. "It's not stupid." He shuffles closer, practically sliding into his lap. "Even if I didn't like you back, it wouldn't be stupid."

Viktor, polite until the day he dies, mumbles "thank you" before wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist, pulling him to his chest, and crushing their lips together.

Yuuri's fingers dig into his scalp as his mouth moves hesitantly against Viktor's. He's clearly inexperienced, he doesn't kiss confidently at all, and Viktor wonders if this is his first. The thought sends a chill up his spine and he's not sure if it's a good chill or a bad chill, but what is most definitely very, _very_ good are Yuuri's hands in his hair, pulling back sharply. Viktor gasps and opens his mouth just enough for Yuuri's tongue to clumsily slip inside.

Yuuri trembles in his lap, whimpering every time Viktor pushes back with his own tongue. Drool trails slowly down his chin and he wants to wipe it off but he's far too preoccupied to move much. His glasses are crooked and smudged.

Just as quickly as it started, though, it ends. Viktor suddenly pulls away with a wet smacking noise, staring at Yuuri's positively wrecked expression. His chest rises and falls rapidly. It presses heavily against Yuuri's own. Viktor just keeps staring in obvious disbelief, like he's trying to figure out if he's dreaming or not.

"Yuuri-" he begins with a cracked voice, then cuts off. His hands trail up Yuuri's back, over his shoulders, and up his neck to cradle his flushed cheeks in freezing hands. His hands are always ice cold.

But the rest of him has proven to not be so frigid. Yuuri can feel their hearts pounding in tandem against each other's bodies, he can feel Victor's unsteady breaths on his nose, can see right through Viktor's clear-cut diamond eyes to the unstable man inside, the scared and hopelessly vulnerable side of him he'd never allowed to be shown to the public.

Viktor is like summer as well, Yuuri realizes. He's a deep blue pond hidden deep in a dark forest that glows in the moonlight. He's a monsoon that gives and gives and gives until it has nothing left, pounding out his insecurities with his raw power in the rink, coming back year after year to scream until his voice has left him. He's an ocean wave crashing to the shore, wiping out everything in its path but leaving behind fragments of stunning shells in the sand. And Yuuri wants to collect the shells, wants to find all the broken pieces of that peach-coloured conch shell and put them back together, wants to help Viktor as much as Viktor has nearly selflessly helped him.

"You're warm," is what he says.

Viktor blinks, then lets out a watery laugh, arms dropping back around Yuuri's waist. He buries his head into Yuuri's neck and sighs shakily.

Yuuri hugs him back, resting his cheek against Viktor's tousled hair. "I used to compare you to winter, you know. Ice king."

"Yeah?" Yuuri can feel the amused smirk against his skin.

"Yeah. But I think you aren't really so closed-off or cold. You're warm," he repeats. "And I hope I... I hope I make you feel warm, too." He feels a little childish for coming up with such a phrase, but he hopes Viktor doesn't think so.

He doesn't. His arms tighten around him. "You do make me warm," he mumbles. "As much as I miss Russia, I don't particularly miss the winters... so if... if you would... like to keep me warm for as long as you... I... oh, I sound like a stupid teenager all over again..!"

"I- wait- are you asking me out?" Yuuri splutters, reeling his head back to meet Viktor's eyes.

Viktor turns his head to the floor, blushing beautifully. "Yes."

Yuuri feels like his heart is about to explode with shock and happiness. But there is a lingering fear still there, what if he's-

"Not good enough."

Viktor's neck cracks as his head whips back up to gape at Yuuri. "What?"

"What?"

Viktor grabs Yuuri's arms. "Did you just say you're not good enough?"

Yuuri feels some of the blood in his face drain away. Oops. "Ah- well, I-"

"You're stunning," Viktor interrupts. He's regained some of the ice in his glare, pointed sharp against Yuuri's insecurities. "Don't you think for one second that you're not enough for me."

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth like a fish, then melts into Viktor's chest, burning at his utter sincerity. "Okay," he whisperers. "Okay, I'll- I'll go out with you."

Yuuri almost doesn't catch Viktor's tiny, victorious hiss of " _yes_!" He grins widely, glasses completely knocked askew and pressing uncomfortably into his forehead, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care at all.

Viktor tugs his face back up to kiss him again.

Yuuri picks up the first salt-dusted shell.

  
When they wake and untangle from each other and the thick comforter on Yuuri's bed, a strange white glow fills the room. Yuuri clambers out of bed, sweatpants and thick sweater rumpled around him, and looks out the window in utter shock.

It had snowed.

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to find out how to say Ice King in Russian and I found out that Plushenko (a famous real-life Russian ice skater who is brought up a lot in the Yuri on Ice fandom) had a show called Snow King.
> 
> Funny how that works, huh?
> 
> My Tumblr is @strawberry-jambouree, I reblog a looootttt of Yuri on Ice stuff lately, also Haikyuu (and I occasionally draw)!


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